


Seven Days Dead

by Alpacamaster



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Multi, Seven days dead prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpacamaster/pseuds/Alpacamaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writing Prompt: Write about the seven days after your character's death, starting with day seven and going backwards to the day they die</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day Seven

And the world keeps spinning. News channels centered on Gotham ran his story into the ground, claiming to have a breaking new discovery every day since the accident. The ‘latest’ report was that Batman intentionally caused Riddler’s death, painting the mad man that terrorized the city as a mentally ill boy in need of proper care and while most of the city didn’t buy that garbage, the younger generation did. They ate it up, begging for more, wanting to know every detail of the late Riddler, from his birth home to favorite food to all the gruesome details of his death.

A group of teenage girls sat huddle in a corner of a local coffee shop, whispering and giggling as a loop of the news played. Two of them had on ‘Riddle me this’ shirts with Riddler’s face on the back, whiles others had more subtle green buttons with his logo on their bags. They were going on about how he was such a 'brave man’ and how shameful it was that he lost the battle against his obsessions. One of the girls remarks on his physical attraction and a collective squeal from the group confirms she wasn’t the only one to think that.

A two older females, a blonde and brunette, sat a few tables down from the girls, disgust by their behavior. The pair of women wore leather biker jackets, zip up to hide their green leotards underneath. Despite him being dead they couldn’t ditch their costumes just yet. Through their years of off and on partnerships with him they had many wardrobe changes, but still held on to the first costumes he made them. It was funny, he had to guilt trip them into wearing the outfits because they said it clashed with their styles and now you couldn’t pay them to take it off. One day they will, when they worked for someone else or finished their mourning period, but not now. Echo took a last glance at girls, who were now fantasying what it would be like to be his henchgirls-- and over romanticizing certain aspects of Ed's personality. She shook her head, shooting a sad smile Query’s way. They were both thinking the same thing.

**“ Eddie always did want attention.”**

                                                              _“ It only took him dying to get it. “_


	2. Day Six

The funeral was longer than expected.

The walk to Arkham’s gates feels longer than before. Grant it, they were used to spiriting towards them. Now Jervis found himself dragging his feet. He tugs on Crane’s sleeves, a few paces ahead, they don’t speak with words but the taller man nods and they continue the journey together. The air is cold, but neither feel it; all they feel is the dense, awkward sadness of the people who have been through hell and back with each other, but have no idea what to say anymore.

When they get to a clearing, Jervis looks up long enough to see all who attend. A lot of them were familiar faces like Harley, Selina, Penguin, and even Two Face. There were doctors and staff, Mr. Cash stood guard in case anyone tried to use this as an excuse to make a run for it. The only person he didn’t expect to see was Batman, the man stood away from the crowd by the trees. Edward was right, they are a coward. His gut twists and he balls his free hand into the front of his coat. “This isn’t right.”

“I know.” Jonathan mutters, noticing the bat’s presence long before.

“He shouldn’t be allowed here. No one **wants** him here.”

“He knows.”

“Then why did he come? It’s his fault our friend is dead.”

Jonathan glances over at Batman then his partner. He doesn’t look terribly convinced, but keeps silent. Edward died on his own accord, yet remorse was better when there was someone else to blame. When the news of Riddler and Batman’s relationship went public, it was only a matter of time before it would blow up in his face. Jervis only wished it would blow up in Batman’s too.

The funeral was longer than expected.

Not many came up to talk and even fewer stood for long but they all linger until being force to return to their cells. It was an entire waste of time. Jervis didn’t know what he was expecting; a mass riot or for them to all start quoting ‘Riddle me this’ in honor of him? Whatever was missing it bore a hole through his chest, making it hard to breath.

With feet made of lead he trudges back to Arkham, passing by Edward’s old cell. Crossword puzzles and Sudoku games were still written on the walls. Tomorrow they’ll be repainted and given to another inmate; it would be like Ed was never there. Jervis shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about it. The hole in side him grows and it takes Crane to point out the obvious for him to see.  

What’s missing is Edward.


	3. Day Five

Sunrise comes before he can get any shut eye. It comes in as thin, rays, that splash all it touches with warmth. Not a cloud in the sky and the breeze made sure to keep calm. The weather report declares this day to be perfect and Oswald hurls a bottle of wine to shut them up. How could this day be perfect? Riddler was dead.

He knows he isn’t the only one grieving the lost. He can see through the hard stares and clenched jaws of those that took refugee in his club only two days ago. Blackgate and Arkham akin to mourn the lost of someone they considered a friend. But for him, it’s far more potent. He’s known Edward since the beginning of it all. Their whole criminal careers were practical woven around one another they’ve blurred the lines between friend, lover, and enemy so many times that they have rewritten their roles together entirely.

Shuffling through files of paper Oswald curses Edward to to hell then retracts his statement repeated times. He clamps on the bit of his cigarette holder between his teeth and rolls it with his tongue. Edward was so kind enough to leave all his positions to him in his will. Sell, keep, destroy. Whatever Oswald deem fit, he would allow. Claimed this was gratitude for the time he left Ed the key to the Iceberg Lounge, Oswald wasn’t so sure this wasn’t just paid back for the beating Ed received from his girls. Eddie always did know how to hold a grudge...

His phone jerks him away from the memories and he forces himself to hold a conversation with whoever was on the other side; Warren White, come to pick at him like a vulture. Now was no time to sulk in pity, Gotham’s underground were still on shaky grounds and not everyone shared his sentiments for the lost of a friend. Nostalgia and grief must remain conceal behind a hard stare and clenched jaw. 

However he cuts the call short, the incoming call more important than whatever the other had to say. 

“No no! I said I wanted forest green and royal purple carnations for the casket, not orange and teal! ” 

In his life time Edward often said there are no real friends, only enemies not yet made, but he was wrong. 

“I don’t care how much it cost just do it! You can add it to the rest of the funeral bill.”

Edward was his best friend.


End file.
